


Sacred Halloween Doctrine (or Something)

by anarchetypal



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA AU, Fake AH Crew, M/M, excessive dialogue, excessive idiocy, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchetypal/pseuds/anarchetypal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is the start of the weirdest Halloween porno ever,” Ryan says.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ray replies from where he’s now sitting in Ryan’s lap, pulling candy from between Ryan’s legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacred Halloween Doctrine (or Something)

It’s really just his vague, only half-to-one-third-functioning sense of self-preservation that makes Ryan decline the offer to go out with the crew on Halloween night.

This is mostly because he _didn’t_ have the foresight to decline last year’s offer, and that had started with copious amounts of alcohol, and had ended in mass bodily harm, car chases, and a night in jail—none of which, mind you, had been Ryan’s fault, which was both an anomaly and a shame.

This year, he’s interested in something at least mildly tamer, especially considering the previous night’s heist and subsequent knife wounds he’s still nursing. Traffic’s always hellish on any holiday that gives people the excuse to drink, anyway.

So he declines the offer.

And so when he heads back to his apartment, it’s with tentative plans to binge-watch something stupid and mind-numbing and wait for the inevitable we-got-arrested-for-public-indecency-please-come-bail-us-out phone call.

He’s not expecting to see Ray stretched out on the couch, Xbox controller in hand and surrounded by a frankly alarming number of candy wrappers.

“I’m starting to wonder if you actually have your own place,” Ryan says, shrugging his jacket off.

“Trick or treat,” Ray calls out, not looking away from the television screen.

“Please stop breaking into my apartment.”

“That was the trick.”

“And the treat is you getting candy wrappers lost forever in my couch cushions?”

“I was thinking the treat could be a Halloween hookup, but that seems like it’ll take a lot less energy, so, sure.”

“I was going to watch Cupcake Wars,” Ryan says, approaching the back of the couch.

“Okay, one, you are literally the most wanted person in this city, you are a very scary man, please never utter the words ‘Cupcake Wars’ in that order ever again if you ever want me to pretend to take you seriously—”

“You _don’t_ pretend to take me seriously.”

“—and _two_ , I will fight you for control of the couch and the TV. I was here first.”

“You’d fight me?” Ryan asks skeptically. “For any reason?”

Ray glances over his shoulder. Ryan folds his arms over his chest and flexes the muscles in his forearms slightly on principle.

Ray turns back to the television. “I’d fight you, provided I could tap out immediately and send in an understudy,” he clarifies.

“There we go.”

“I’d hire The Rock.”

“Why aren’t you out with the others?” Ryan asks, before the conversation gets truly ludicrous.

“Right, because there’s nothing I like more than watching my friends get blind drunk at six different bars and then try to convince me it’s a good idea to go trick-or-treating in a suburban neighborhood,” Ray deadpans. “I decided my time was better spent playing video games and eating myself sick on discount candy. Which is less of a Halloween plan and more of a personal way of life.”

“Did you _not_ go trick-or-treating in a suburban neighborhood?” Ryan asks, gesturing to the large bowl that’s still impressively filled with candy considering all the empty wrappers littering the coffee table, and the couch, and Ray’s body.

“Excuse you. I went to the store and bought several bags of candy to eat alone by myself like a real adult,” Ray says, frowning when he dies onscreen and tossing the controller down so he can reach for the bowl. Ryan walks around the couch to grab it and pass it to him, snagging a few pieces for himself as he does, despite Ray’s scandalized noise.

“And by ‘bought,’ you mean…”

“Stole,” Ray allows, “but that’s mostly because the line for the cashier was, like, seventeen million people long. And partially because I left my wallet at home because I wasn’t actually planning on paying for the candy at all.”

“You got literally tens of thousands of dollars from the heist yesterday. A bag of candy costs, what, five bucks?”

“Look, the point of Halloween is free candy. I was just following the sacred Halloween doctrine.”

“Right. Are you going to let me sit down now, or am I going to have to fight The Rock first?” Ryan asks.

“Be my guest,” Ray offers generously. “Mi couch es su couch. Or whatever.”

Ray doesn’t bother to move from where he’s taken up a good four-fifths of the couch, so Ryan pushes Ray’s legs aside and sits, only for Ray to replace his legs onto Ryan’s lap. Ryan stares down at Ray’s socks. They’re black with tiny pumpkins on them.

“Lindsay made me wear them,” Ray says promptly.

“Lindsay made everybody wear them,” Ryan admits. To Ray’s immense delight, he dutifully kicks his boots off to display his own horrifyingly pumpkin’d socks.

“Look who actually has some Halloween spirit,” Ray says. He pulls his phone out, clearly intending to take a picture of Ryan in his Halloween socks and post it on whatever social media app he’s playing with this week.

“No,” Ryan says cautiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” Ryan repeats firmly.

Ray lifts his phone. “It’s happening.”

“ _No_.”

What follows is a bordering-on-violent scuffle for Ray’s phone that ends with Ray upending the bowl of Halloween candy over Ryan’s head and Ray quickly thereafter ending up on the floor.

“Pushing people is _cruel_ and _childish_ , Ryan,” Ray says, picking himself up off the floor while Ryan brushes Tootsie Rolls out of his hair. “I demand compensation for my suffering.”

“Yeah, well, all the candy is now either in my hair or between my fucking legs, so you’re out of luck in that department.”

“If you think I won’t eat Milky Ways that have gotten more intimate with you than I have,” Ray starts, and then Ryan has to defend his lap from Ray’s shameless candy lust. Or something.

“This is the start of the weirdest Halloween porno ever,” Ryan says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ray replies from where he’s now sitting in Ryan’s lap, pulling candy from between Ryan’s legs.

“Can we move?” Ryan asks, almost pleading as he shifts uncomfortably. “I think I ended up sitting on all the hardest, pointiest candy in that bowl.”

“I mean,” Ray says, “there’s always the bed.”

“Ray.”

“Because, you know, speaking of getting intimate—”

“ _Ray_.”

“Look, I’m just saying, you’ll be safe from candy poking you in the ass, and also I’ll suck your dick, so I’m not really seeing the issue here.”

“The issue is that if you don’t get off of me, I’m going to have to carry you to the bedroom, and you’ve eaten about ten pounds of chocolate, so—”

“Are you calling me fat?” Ray asks, mock-scandalized.

“I feel like I’m going to have to carry you to the bedroom no matter what my answer is here.”

“Aw. You know me so well.”

Ryan rolls his eyes as he pulls Ray in for a kiss that’s saccharine, that tastes like the inside of a trick-or-treat bag, tastes like lollipops and chocolate and Ray’s laughter.

(“Ten bucks says it’s fuckin’ _coitus interruptus_ when somebody ends up calling us to bail them out,” Ray says after Ryan inevitably ends up carrying him to the bedroom, after both of them are a few hickeys closer to debauched.

“Oh, god, don’t remind me.”)

**Author's Note:**

> this is ridiculous and i'm not sorry
> 
> cross-posting from my writing/inspiration blog: http://anarchetypal.tumblr.com/


End file.
